Letter-writing hell for Laura Ashley customer "Please help," writes Marie Riley of Lytham St Anne's, "otherwise I may have to continue writing furious letters to Laura Ashley for the rest of my life without ever getting anywhere." Now, this is not a fate to which we can abandon our readers. Riley ordered a bedroom suite from the company's Arlington range, at a cost of around £5,000, in January. The expected delivery date of February 27 morphed into April 6, but Riley, though not altogether happy, was not yet pitched into furious letter-writing. That came when the furniture did turn up, only for the delivery men to point out various faults as they assembled it: a missing slat for the bed, drawers that didn't shut properly, and wonky doors. No problem, she was told - we'll send out independent assessors to check what needs to be replaced. A fair amount did, as it turned out: two double wardrobes and a chest of drawers (and that missing slat, of course). And then ... nothing much happened.

Riley wrote to Laura Ashley on a monthly basis, each time prompting the standard response that "this is being looked into as a matter of priority and we will contact you again in the very near future". "The company hasn't even acknowledged the problem, let alone given me the slightest hint about what course of action it intends to take," says Riley.

There has been, it would seem, not so much a breakdown in communication as a misapplication of it. Laura Ashley's customer service manager explains that most people prefer to resolve problems over the phone, and that is what they attempted to do in Riley's case. Riley had, however, explicitly asked not to be called, as she is at work all day. Those frustrating standard response letters are, says Laura Ashley, sent out as a reassurance that the customer's message has been received, though Riley would no doubt have felt more reassured by some sign that hers had been read. In this case, the paper chain was broken when a customer services representative went off sick and the complaint was not passed on. Happily, it has now been passed on to the customer services manager: Riley has a date for her new delivery, a wodge of compensation and an apology; Laura Ashley now plans to write to customers when they cannot or do not wish to be contacted by phone.

How to put an end to persistent cold-callers Someone else who would prefer the phone not to be ringing quite so often is Gerard Macdonald from Folkington. He has been receiving up to six or seven calls an evening from a varied crew of telemarketing companies offering everything from double-glazing to "loans that would pay off the debt of a small country". Fortunately, Macdonald has not been led into temptation; instead, he took the very sensible step of registering with the Telephone Preference Service (TPS). But, he says, "Since that time, cold-calling has, if anything, increased." Is there, he asks, any penalty for those who ignore the list of "don't call" numbers? And if not, what is the use of it?

Registering with the TPS cannot, sadly, guarantee an end to the plague of callers. But the law is on the side of Macdonald, and all those who get that sinking feeling as they pick up the receiver: the Privacy and Electronic Communications Regulations of 2003 state that it is unlawful to make unsolicited calls to an individual who has indicated, via a list such as the TPS, that they do not want them. Unfortunately, the TPS doesn't have the power to get shirty with those who flout the rules, so Consumer goes straight to the Information Commissioner's Office (ICO), the body responsible for keeping cold-callers in check.

TPS registration, explains a helpful ICO spokeswoman, should put an end to those calls - after all, it's really not in the interest of companies to waste time ringing people they know are definitely not going to take up their offers. But punishing those who persist can be a lengthy process. Many complaints are sorted informally, but for those who won't take no for an answer, a chain of enforcement notices can, after a fair slog of time, lead to prosecution and a fine of £5,000. The ICO's advice is to ask cold-callers for a company name and an address or freephone number - which they are legally obliged to give you - then to put it on record that you wish never to be bothered again.

If they still do not get the message, the ICO can take up the case, but bear in mind that it's only the really persistent and widespread offenders who are likely to get the full-on treatment. Before we all switch to answerphone, some good news: the Department of Trade and Industry has accepted the need for more powers for the ICO to deal with the relentless diallers.

Sad tale of unsold return tickets for opera You buy a theatre ticket, then discover you can't go. Your options: accept it is not the theatre's fault that you have come down with stomach flu and take the financial hit; flog them to cultured colleagues (face-value only, please); or, if the production is a sell-out, return them to the box office and hope it can sell them on to would-be theatre-goers.

Daisy Mezey hoped the latter would apply when she returned four £70 tickets for the Force of Destiny at the Royal Opera House, three days before the performance. Having been told that only two tickets remained unsold for the Saturday in question, each at £160, and that there were queues for returns, Mezey was reasonably confident that her four would be snapped up. But a few days later, the tickets materialised through her front door, along with a note saying the box office had been unable to sell them on.

We do try to sell returned tickets for a sold-out show, says a press officer for the Royal Opera House. He also points out that the night in question was not sold out, what with those two £160-ers hanging about. But surely not all those in the queue were eager to splash out that much?

The problem is, says the Royal Opera House, that those who wander by on the day would probably balk at the £70 tag, too; the cheapest tickets are the ones that are easiest to resell. Advice, then - other than to buy cheap in the first place - is to return tickets you can't use but don't assume they will be sold on, especially if the box office still has its own to offload.

· Additional research by Joanna Moorhead. Write to us at 119 Farringdon Road, London EC1R 3ER, or email us at consumer@guardian.co.uk